


Promise

by TheMissus



Series: Promises [2]
Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hallucinations, Medical Procedures, Mutation, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissus/pseuds/TheMissus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire is suffering from PTSD. Alone and angry Claire finds an unlikely benefactor in her darkest hour as she discovers what being human really means. Find out what it means to be infected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I will let you down I will make you hurt.  
I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair. Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair.  
Beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear you are someone else.  
I am still right here.

Johnny Cash- Hurt

For someone who wasn't known for being vain, Claire Redfield spent an increasingly large amount of time starring at her reflection in a mirror. It had become an unconscious ritual whenever she passed one. She would arch her neck and tilt her head from side to side making that her skin was still whole and intact and free from the wounds of the infected, quivering fingers running over her skin to make sure that she was free of infection. She knew it was ridiculous, that there were more subtle ways to become infected than to be bitten, but still the fear lingered on, twisting nerves that were already frayed to breaking point.

Despite the knowledge that she was safe and out of harm's way with every blink of an eye the nightmares began afresh in Claire's mind with all the gut-churning clarity of a film reel. In every moment of quiet solitude she would get the unnerving feeling that despite all evidence to the contrary she wasn't quite alone. It was almost as if her own conscience was stalking her.

Faceless voices merged with the shadows of her home. Ghosts lurking in the darkness waiting for her to let down her guard down, causing her to jump at every unexpected sound like it was a cannon blast. At first, Claire had felt relieved to be home, desperate for a taste of normality after months of terror. But her homecoming had not been the happy ending she had prayed for in the back of a fighter jet. It was like she was becoming a prisoner once more, only this time the walls that held Claire in were that of her own home.

A few days ago- nearly a month after her return- Claire had cut her hand and she had torn the apartment apart to find a first aid kit and iodine to sterilise and seal the wound. The sight of the deep red of her blood sparking an instinctive terror that Claire couldn't control, and it had taken her over an hour to breath normally once more. Each breath she pulled in as painful as gasping in shards of glass into starving lungs and every heartbeat like a drum roll against her ribs.

It was irrational, Claire knew that now. That even now, weeks after escaping the icy wilderness of Antarctica and after the death of Raccoon City that she still felt terror at the thought of infection. If she had been infected she would have long ago started displaying the symptoms but that didn't stop the all encompassing fear. Claire would rub her skin raw in the shower with carbolic soap in order to purify her skin and the fear of infection would wash away for a few hours, only to return with a vengeance.

An anxious and absent, Chris had called in one of his old friends in the Air Force who now worked as a consultant in the VA centre in New York and asked him to check over his sister. A Dr Mick Davis. He was young, helpful and Claire knew that it should be easy to talk to him but something stopped her. Part of her resented the doctor's presence, while another felt anger at the presumption of her brother that she needed help. She had been angry and told the truth, why did that mean she needed help? Nonetheless, she held back from slamming the door into Davis' face.

They had sat in the small living room after Claire had awkwardly let him into her home, her guard already up and wary. The doctor had asked a lot of questions, his words as smooth as silk as he put his best patient voice on. The sound of the old kitchen clock ticking as loud as a church bell in the awkward silence, almost drowning out Claire's voice as she did her best to be honest. Even as the words seemingly scraped out her mouth, Claire had felt sure that she had met the doctor in the past most likely when Chris had returned home on leave but it felt like a distant memory. Dr Davis' face lost in amongst the countless walking dead that Claire had fought against.

A lot of things from her past life seemed hazy these days, and with each passing day it seemed like more and more of Claire's life was being overwritten by Umbrella. But that thought and many others were not for the doctor.

As their coffee grew cold, they had talked about how she was sleeping, eating, how Claire's mood was. How she felt like she was losing control since getting back to the States, how she felt haunted and terrified of darkness and silence. How she lived in terror. But Claire made sure to keep the worst to herself, burying it away with the hundreds of painful memories that dogged her.

Especially the memory that should have been a happy one. When someone had told her that she was loved.

Davis supped at his coffee despite it having long ago lost its heat, his pad and pen in the other hand and he asked her about flashbacks. Everything now came in disorienting flashbacks that made Claire's head ache for hours in the aftermath. At first it was the nightmares she had had as a child dwelling on how her parents had died. The feelings of fear, of being vulnerable and reliant on others and the fear that she would lose Chris too. Then it would move onto feeling like a failure, Claire knew she had let people down. Steve and Sherry had paid the price where Claire had failed.

The other images, Claire held onto, Davis... he didn't need to know the rest.

The walking dead roaming the earth in desperation for living flesh to feast upon, the rapist police chief Brian Irons cowering in his dungeon lying in wait for his victims. Little Sherry Birkin clinging to Claire for dear life as they faced down the macabre creations of the little girl's parents and the rest of Umbrella's deranged scientists. The escape from a secret underground lab and the remains of the dead Raccoon city aflame and then flying to Paris, the torturers paradise Rockfort prison then yet more dying. At times it was like she hadn't left it behind at all. And don't you wish you could have left everything behind?

It was textbook post traumatic stress syndrome, Rebecca had told Chris while they had thought Claire was asleep back in London. And in the present, Dr Davis agreed with the STARS medic's diagnosis. Claire had listened in on the doctor's conversation over the phone with Chris who still remained in the UK. Flashbacks and bad dreams were par for the course with any form of serious trauma Davis had reassured. That it would take time for Chris's little sister to recover from what she had witnessed, but in the meantime he was going to prescribe some antidepressants and sedatives to allow Claire to rest. Davis had went on to ask if there was anyone close who could look out for Claire while Chris was out the country.

Claire knew the outcome of that conversation, there was no-one left aside from her and Chris. They had been alone for years. The two Redfield children had been military brats, always moving with their parents to a new town every year or so with their father who was an officer in the USAF.

They had been living in Germany near the Ramstien Air Force Base when their parents had died in a car accident on base. The familiar helplessness Claire had felt as a child had returned with her return to the United States except this time there was no Chris to look out for her this time.

Staring at the dregs remaining in her coffee cup, Claire continued to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place in the corridor that lead from her living room to the door. "Your sister needs some support right now Chris. She needs you here." There was a moment of silence before Davis spoke again. "I understand Chris, but if you can haul ass back here I would think it wise. Claire is a vulnerable, young woman who needs you here with her until this passes." Another pause. "Well, until you get back I will do my best to keep an eye out and check up on her. But I am no substitute for you. You are her brother. With you here she will make a quicker recovery."

But would she, Claire thought numbly as she came out the shower in her pokey bathroom pausing in front of the mirror as she wiped off the condensation to look at her reflection. Davis had left hours ago and it was now late. Every morning and night Claire looked into the same chipped small mirror with trepidation as if she half expected to see her body begin to decay and putrefy like all the others she had seen in Raccoon. Claire knew it was paranoid and unlikely but it didn't stop the fear or the worry that perhaps she had come back wrong from Antarctica. With each day that past by Claire felt like a little more of her old self was dying away.

The college student who loved motorbikes, cheeseburgers and hot chocolate on cold days was fading. She was becoming a pale imitation of herself. The hopes Claire had had for her life had been lost to the madness that surrounded Umbrella like a noxious cloud. It had left her a shadow of her former self and although everyone tried to act like it was just temporary, Claire knew they were lying, instinct told her that this fear was permanent.

There were those flashes at the corner of her eye, the faint blur of someone always just moving out her line of vision, whenever she tried to look directly at them. The flashes that Claire had known better than to tell Dr Davis about or she was sure he would have had her committed. The scents that appeared from nowhere to remind Claire of death, the smell of the dead, the blood on every surface. It was all overpowering, each and every recollection cloying her senses until she felt like her head would explode.

Heading to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around her still damp torso, Claire passed by her old college books stacked in an old bookcase, and the sight of the dog-eared pages made her remember her old Classics professor and his need to make his students over analyse every word in their prescribed reading. As Claire brushed her fingers over the spines of her old school texts, she wondered how he would describe the situation she currently found herself in.

Would it be seen as the inescapable death of innocence and the growth into adulthood? Or simply the grim realisation that that unlike many a parents late night reassurances, there were indeed creatures that went bump in the night? Or, as Claire was more inclined to think, she was just fraying at the edges and was desperately trying to find things that would explain her increasingly irrational behaviour to herself. Because as accustomed as Claire was becoming to the unusual, even she was the first to admit that recently she had been living far from normality. With a derisive snort Claire turned to wrap her hair in a towel before making sure that her home was secure and that nothing could easily break in.

Claire had met crazy people before. Irons had been crazy. The Ashfords had been crazy. Now she worried that she was going crazy. With nothing else to do she had read up on what PTSD could do to a person and it wasn't pretty, and her stomach churned at the very thought of it. For months she had been able to keep the pain at bay because she had a mission to accomplish. Claire had been determined to find out the fate of her brother and now that she had found Chris, it felt like her talisman against the pain had been taken from her. Once she had been able to finally stop all the fear, pain and anger for what had happened had hit her with the force of a tidal wave, leaving her with this void that threatened to swallow her whole. It had been too much to think she might have been able to come out of all this relatively unscathed. Claire thought looking over the apartment for anything out of place as she turned off the lights; shrouding everything in darkness, save for the dull bluish glow of the street light near the window.

Claire's bedroom was barely lit by a small bedside lamp, and she gingerly sat on the bed to finish drying her hair as the rain started to hammer against the window outside. The room that had once been a motorbike shrine was now covered in a collage of Umbrella Inc related newspaper clippings, and photos that plastered the walls, along with tottering piles of VHS cassettes that stored news recordings from stock updates to new product announcements.

Every night, Claire read textbooks on viruses and studied various medical texts, taking what she had witnessed from surviving two viral outbreaks and building up on her admittedly scant knowledge from High School biology. She wanted to know how Umbrella's creations worked, she needed to know.

After Antarctica, Claire wanted to know what the virus did to a host as it worked its will over the body. She had seen the physical effects, now she needed to know what happened where she couldn't see. So night after night, she sat up late reading at the same desk where she once had worked on term papers and revision, only now her studies were on virions and lipids rather than Tolstoy and Steinbeck.

Claire sat on the edge of bed, pausing before reaching for the small orange prescription bottle on the night stand. With frozen fingers she carefully tapped a pill onto her palm, and for what seemed like hours Claire stared at the tiny drop with a growing sense of trepidation. Davis had told her time was a healer, Claire didn't believe him.

Before she lost her courage, Claire swallowed the pill before shakily turning off her light and waited for the medication to kick in. It didn't take long for it to start to dull her senses. Shaking out her hair, Claire turned under covers and watched the light glimmering off the water droplets that rested on the window pane. The familiar sound of cars swooshing through the water echoing up from outside. In her chest, Claire could feel her heart-rate begin to slow and her vision darkened, like someone slowly turning a dimmer switch. Daring to hope for a respite from her nightmares, Claire closed her eyes and sighed deeply allowing her head to rest into the pillow.

It's going to be alright.

It was an illusion that was destined to be shattered. Within minutes of that thought, Claire's nose caught the old scents of gunpowder and blood and with a start she forced her drugged eyes to open. Just in time to catch a fleeting reflection of a ghost on the rain spattered window.

Why was he haunting her?

She would have saved him if she could.

It hadn't been fair, he had lost everything already.

He had just been a boy, a boy who wanted someone to love him.

He had wanted her to love him.

Claire hadn't loved him, but she still felt responsible for the death of the boy known as Steve.

Steve Burnside, whose ghost now visited her at each of her weakest moments. Claire helplessly slumped back into the bed and felt her vision begin to blur. As she faded off into a stupor the indistinct face of Steve loomed over her as tears started to spill down the side of her face as she gave one last shuddering gasp. Her body shivering as terror took a grip over her and when Claire finally gave up consciousness she could hear her tormentor mock whisper.

"Sorry, Claire, but you can't shut me out that easily."


	2. Chapter 2

Are you from another world I never seen someone who looks like you  
Beautiful stranger how do you do? Tell me is there something I can do for you  
Your energy when you touch me Lifted me off the ground Your words to me are like music

I don't know (don't know) Who you are (who you are) All I really know is there's something your heart

That makes me feel (makes me feel)It's a new start (it's a new start)  
All I really know is there's something in your heart

Magnetic Man Feat Katy B – Perfect Stranger

The last time Claire and Chris had spoken it had been an argument, with each of their fights they always did start with the best intentions and never intended it to end up in a sibling fallout but it had happened like it often did. Each of the Redfield's had been passionate and unafraid to say what they thought least of all to each other, it was almost a family trait. But now their relationship had been tainted and Claire wasn't sure how she was meant to feel about it anymore.

Both Claire and Chris had made it to London with a brief pit stop in the Falkland Islands after their escape from the Antarctic in the Umbrella jet. From there Chris had managed to scrounge a lift to the UK from an old British RAF liaison he had met while still in the Air Force. After that for about a week things had been good while they had rested in London and waited for the rest of Chris's former STARs teammates to rendezvous with them. Before heading to Rockfort Chris had been working on ways to take on Umbrella in their own backyard with varying success, he was tired and quick to anger. A sure sign that his emotions were just as up in the air as Claire's though he lacked the ability to show it, Chris had never been good at being open in expressing himself to others, not even to Claire. As she had grown older Claire had always put it down to having to grow up fast in order to become a surrogate parent to her after their parents had died.

Despite the initial joy of being reunited there was still an atmosphere of uneasiness between Claire and that refused to go away or be ignored. Each had questions they wanted to ask; Claire for one wanted to know why he had left with no explanation despite them being close, and Chris wanted to know why his sister had been crazy enough to break into Umbrella labs on her own, her recklessness almost killing her in the madhouse that had been Rockfort, After a couple of days Claire had been settling in at the safe-house as best as could be expected and they had gotten used to the fact that they had both survived things had started to get more heated and uneasy. An unspoken of tension that strained the very fibres of their relationship to breaking point, it was there whenever they saw each other and each time Claire saw her brother it was like something small and poisonous had been festering in the back of her mind. A cancer that preyed on her thoughts and feelings and made it almost unbearable to be within Chris's presence for any length of time, every word, every touch and each gesture stirred something in Claire that she had been beating down for so long she had almost forgotten it was there.

Although Chris had kept his distance he noticed that Claire had been quiet for days, ever since they had arrived in London. She was moody, tearful, tired and easily irritated; it was as if Claire's body had become a shell of itself, simply leaving a shadow to remain in Claire's place. Chris had known it was stupid to expect his sister to be the same after surviving the unsurvivable but a part of him was desperate for the normalcy his sister had represented in his mind until he had found out she had been dragged into the same mess he was in.

For the first couple of nights Chris has listened outside the bedroom that had been his until Claire had come along and he had decamped to the sofa. At night he could hear her crying and though he was desperate to try and console her each time he had tried Claire would turn away from him. It had been easier to let her simply rest in peace than to try and get her to talk about her experiences, whatever had happened had made Claire's emotions raw and Chris knew better than to keep prying. Chris had wondered what Claire had been up to during their months of separation and curious about what her relationship had been with the boy Steve Burnside. His death had had a palpable effect on his younger sister and she had been largely silent ever since they had been reunited.

Four days after their return from the Antarctic Chris had found Claire sitting on the window sill watching the fireworks that were being set off across the city to celebrate the New Year when he had sat beside her. For a moment they sat there in silence just looking at the flashes of colour illuminating the night sky, both of them weary of breaking the quiescence that seemed to have become the mainstay of their reunion. Everything until now had been unspoken and Chris watched as Claire chewed at her lip as riotous colour rained down from the sky.

"I used to love fireworks when we were little," Claire mused sadly. "Now when I see them all I can remember is Raccoon city burning around me. Kinda spoils the childhood memories"

Chris looked at his sister and could feel his heart clench at her haunted expression, that despite his best efforts his baby sister had seen what the first circle of hell looked like and there was nothing he could do to make it better. "You've had a tough time. Maybe it's time to take a step back."

"Whenever I try to sleep all I can see are their faces in the flames, all those people just trying to escape the plague. Kids with faces hanging off, cops with their guts trailing behind them, and all I could think about was what if I turned the corner and it was you next. That's a tough time not now." Claire spoke softly her voice almost hidden by the noise from the street outside.

Chris looked stricken. "Shit Claire I never wanted this life for you! I just wanted you to stay in college and away from all this crap."

Claire closed her eyes as she listened to Chris, crossing her arms as she spoke. "I never wanted this life for me either Chris. But it's what happened so I have to deal with it," Claire's expression was stony as continued to stare out the window, carefully avoiding Chris's gaze as he desperately attempted to get through to her. In the distance Big Ben struck midnight and it seemed as if the whole city erupted around them as the cheers of those partying rang through the night and another barrage of fireworks lit the city's skyline. Claire turned her head to face the window again and swallowed heavily as she fought down the lump that had swollen up in the back of her throat as Chris continued talking. "Claire I don't think you should stick around here. I think with some of the things you've seen and lost you need to take a step back for a while. For the sake of your health for one thing, I don't want to risk losing you to something you can avoid."

Claire's nose crinkled in disgust as she faced Chris, her head snapping back so hard her ponytail started to come loose from its band."You think I can't hack it anymore is that it?" she asked bitterly. "Jesus! Claire that's not what I said at all!" Chris threw his hands up in exasperation as Claire glared at him accusingly. "I have nightmares too but at least in mine it's a limited number of mad scientists rather than a whole damn city! This isn't something you bounce back from Claire. It's just not possible to pretend like it was nothing. Jill told me how Raccoon ended up with whole streets full of 'em trying to eat you alive. That's not something I wanted my little sister to have to go through as well. Not after I tried to keep you out of it."

"I might not have had to if you had just told me where you were Chris, I went to hell and back because I was terrified you were dead too." For the first time in the whole conversation Claire turned to directly look Chris in the eye, her cheeks blotchy as her emotions got closer and closer to the surface. Damn, Chris thought. There was the kicker, Claire was understandably angry at him for leaving without a word. He had never wanted to disappear or hurt her, but at the time there has seemed there had been no other option, no other way to keep Claire out of harm's way. It had been a decision he had agonised over, now if only he could convince Claire of that.

"Claire you've pushed yourself further than I ever thought you would and I am so damn proud of you but I need you to go home and rest up for a while. I can't fight Umbrella if I am worried about you too Claire." Chris moved to kneel in front of his sister and rested his hands on her shoulders to stop her turning away from him again.

Chris looked at Claire intently for that moment and had to steady himself when he could finally see the toll the past few months had taken on his sister. There were shadows across her face that he couldn't remember being there before and the constant threat of tears from eyes that had always seemed so bright now reddened and bruised by crying, sticking out starkly against Claire's pale skin. She looked thinner too, Claire had always been slim but now she looked almost bony in places, as if the life had been drawn out of her.

"You think that I wanted to leave without saying goodbye? I left because I was trying to keep you safe and off Umbrella's radar. I didn't want you to get hurt," Chris finished brusquely. Claire glowered at him her arms folded despite Chris holding her. "Well I did get hurt Chris, watching people transform into monsters hurt, watching people die slowly and painfully hurt and my brother disappearing off the face of the earth funnily enough that hurt too." With that Claire shrugged him off and left Chris standing next to the sill, making sure to slam the door behind her as she left leaving Chris to mull things over on his own in the silent apartment.

Wounded, Chris sank down until he slumped on the loveseat with his head cradled in his hands, the sound of a second door slamming echoing throughout the apartment. There was another chorus of cheers from the bar below the apartment and the sound of a solitary firework in the distance. Raking his fingers through his hair as his temper threatened to boil over Chris kicked out and toppled over the bookcase that stood next to the window taking little pleasure in the crash that resulted and wondered why the fuck this all had to happen to him.

After leaving Chris behind Claire had gone out for a walk, aimlessly walking the streets and alleys of London as the New Year's revellers partied inside and in the centre of the city. She walked miles though the city from the flat in Stockwell, over the Thames and into the centre of the city. It had been just after midnight when Claire had left the flat and now it was nearing 4am. The New Years parties were starting to fizzle out and Claire struggled to work her way through the brightly lit and still bustling streets of the city. She had ended up in Leicester square as the revellers were just starting to head home and after sitting for a while on the edge of a fountain decided she had avoided Chris for long enough.

Claire's long walk had helped her cool off and collect her thoughts as scrambled as they were. What she couldn't understand was how angry she was at her brother; Claire had just spent months wandering the world trying to find Chris and now that she had found him the relief she had been expecting had been fleeting. Her emotions were in turmoil, swinging like a pendulum from one extreme to another and it seemed all Claire could now feel was either an all consuming numbness or a rage that made her want to tear the walls down. Back when Claire had been searching for Chris her nails had bitten to the quick with worry, the constant sickening feeling that he might be dead; that Umbrella might have found Chris before she had. Now that they were safe and together again all Claire could feel was a rage that she suspected had been slowing boiling since she had survived Raccoon City. Each time Claire looked at her brother the final words he had written in his diary left behind in the STARs office came back to haunt her.

Please forgive me Claire.

And every time Claire looked away she realised that she never would be able to forgive him and that nothing he said he would ever heal that wound. The closeness that the two siblings had formed over the years from being alone was severed: marred and broken by Chris's obsession with Umbrella that caused him to forget their bond. Claire had never wanted to believe that Chris would just up and leave her, but his own diary back in Raccoon had proved otherwise. Chris had left her to go fight a bigger fight, leaving her to try and find her way in a world that didn't play fair.

As Claire neared the centre of Vauxhall Bridge she slowed her pace and stopped to look over the Thames and the buildings illuminated in the darkness that lined the river-bank. For a few minutes Claire rested her arms over the edge and listened to the hum of the city around her, the water running beneath her and the few taxis and buses still left serving in the city driving by her in a rush of air. It was cold and Claire's breath misted before her as she rubbed her hands to keep warm, her fingerless gloves doing nothing to ward off the frost lingering in the air. The light from an old fashioned wrought iron streetlight cast deep shadows over her as she rested for a moment, her feet aching from the hours Claire had spent walking, her earlier thoughts refusing to allow them-selves to be cast back to the back of her mind.

Chilled and with her skin starting to numb Claire started to walk back over the bridge to head back to the apartment where Chris was most likely pacing wondering where she was, alone in a strange city. The partygoers were starting to straggle home, some drunk, some tipsy and others sober- shepherding those too drunk to care. In the distance there was a sirens wail that echoed off the silence that ensconced the city, and with each step Claire took the siren grew closer. Her hands in her pockets Claire make out the shambolic shuffling figure of a drunken man in a suit as she got closer to the end of the bridge. As she walked closer Claire's vision flickered and the man was replaced for the barest second by a zombie, covered in blood and his flesh hanging from his bones in wet slivers. Claire shook her head and the illusion disappeared, replaced once more with the drunk ambling home. Unnerved and pulling up her coat collar Claire tried to protect her-self from the chill that was settling down, her pace quickening as she made to get back to the apartment as fast as possible.

As the police car sped past Claire could feel the un-natural reaction of her body as she lurched forward, her limbs weakening as her vision oscillated and her very breath froze in her lungs. Claire blinked and it felt like her eyelids remained closed for an eternity as suddenly the memories began to rush back – men in police uniforms ablaze, their bodies bloody and mutilated, the mass of wreckage back in Raccoon city full of the corpses of the dead. As Claire's eyes reopened it seemed like her vision had been inverted. Instead of being in the centre of London she was back, back in the nightmare that had been Raccoon City. Claire could hear the screams that echoed through the streets, the stench of death and gunpowder and the thick oily scent of the city burning around her. Claire's head began to throb and ache and she stumbled as she tried to keep both feet on the ground. Even as she tried to regain control of her senses it felt like the living cityscape of London was peeling away to reveal the dead city that was Raccoon. Everywhere was burning and then Claire's body lurched as she just couldn't move anymore, her fingers scraping against the balustrade of the bridge as her legs refused to hold her and her lungs stalled as she attempted to draw a life giving breath.

As Claire struggled to stay upright she caught sight of the zombie that was stumbling towards her through the gloom, his fleshless fingers reaching out in their bloody hunger for fresh meat. His clothes torn and his flesh mangled with a face that was now hollow except for a gory tongue that slithered like a snake across its lipless mouth. As the infected creature blundered towards Claire it let out the sound that Claire feared most: the desperate mournful moan of the infected. No, . Claire thought as she scrabbled back up as she desperately tried to remain in control despite her body's lack of response. She needed to escape; she needed to getaway, no weapons, not safe. Frantically Claire pulled herself onto the ledge as the zombie grew closer, its anguished moans causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end as her skin grew clammy with fear.

Shakily Claire straightened up her body feeling light as she stood on the ledge and looked down at what looked like a grass verge next to a parking lot just a few feet down. She could jump, she would be safe then. With almost ballet like grace Claire stretched out as she made to jump, her toes already barely touching the ledge as the world shifted once more, reverting back to its normal state, the fire and death melting away to reveal London again. As Claire began to fall she let out a shriek when she saw what her real landing spot was: the ice cold water of the Thames almost 50 feet below her. Time slowed and Claire closed her eyes in the sliver of a second that past her body already starting to descend in the watery darkness below and despite everything, the fear and the pain Claire felt weightless. For that barest second Claire felt the numbness and the anger leave her, all lost in her fall until she heard her name being screamed and then Claire felt her body being jerked back into reality.

Shaken back to awareness Claire could feel herself hanging in midair but as her mind struggled to function she couldn't work out why she was hanging. Someone was talking to her but it was faint, almost like someone talking to her as she dived underwater. Dazed Claire looked up and blinked away the tears that were beginning to form, obscuring her vision. Her arm was outstretched and Claire followed it, noting the strong male arms that held on to her and looked into the pale white face of her brother. With an exerted grunt Chris pulled Claire up from over the side of the bridge, his arms holding Claire in a tight embrace. Claire sank to her knees as Chris held onto her, his grip around her waist almost over-powering. Claire struggled against his strong grip as she drew each shuddering breath. Chris was talking to her as he patted back the sweaty tangled strands of her hair as the aftermath of her hallucination faded away into nothingness, his voice muted as Claire returned to full awareness.

"Sssssh, it's alright Claire. I'm here I've got you."

Those words set off the simmering rage Claire had been feeling before her fall into a full blown boil. Claire threw Chris off so hard his back painfully impacted against the bridge's balustrade as she chokingly took in a breath, her eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall and hands balled into fists. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say you've got me!" Claire spat.

Gingerly Chris pushed himself back up straight and bent over as he attempted to get his breath back after having the wind knocked out of him by Claire's unexpected shove. It started to rain as both siblings stared each other down trying to hold back the shivers as it grew even colder, their breath fogging in the air as the fat raindrops started to fall. "What was going to happen when Umbrella eventually came after me Chris?" Claire asked her voice cracking and seeming overly loud in the dead street. "What was gonna happen Chris?" Claire repeated as she threw her hands up.

Chris felt a cold sweat take over his body as he watched Claire as she sobbed, her face twisted and tormented as her question hung in the air. Swallowing heavily Chris ignored the dull pain from his back "Claire, they weren't interested in you it me they wanted." Chris said as he stepped forward to his sister, unable to contain the look of hurt as Claire shrank back from him as he moved towards her. "It's always been me they wanted."

"They had whole files on me Chris! I saw them; they had my address, my social security number, and my fucking high school grades. Where we were born, Mom and Dad. They had it all!" Claire screeched, her voice echoing in the night. Chris looked stunned at this new information, and he struggled to take it in.

"What was going to happen Chris? Would they have come for me in my dorm room, while I went grocery shopping? If anything happened to me how the hell would you have even known?"

Chris tried to get close enough to grab Claire but the instant he got close Claire pushed him away her crying growing louder as she turned and staggered away, the rain starting to grow heavier, soaking them both.

"I thought you were dead! Does that even register with you! Did you not think for one second that I might wonder where my brother had gone, or that I would try and find you!" Claire asked as the rain started to plaster her hair to her head. Incensed Claire's movements were erratic as the two siblings circled each other on the bridge.

"Claire, I..." Chris started but was cut off as another taxi sped by them on the bridge, spraying them with surface water. "I went through hell trying to find you Chris. And it doesn't even seem to get through to you. A seventeen year old boy with no one left in the world died in my arms telling me he loved me because there was no-one else left to tell. Because Umbrella murdered his whole family and you can't even see why I am so angry with you." Claire sobbed as she sank to her knees. "Umbrella doesn't take prisoners Chris. They kill everyone that's left and you left me."

Stunned into silence and unable to think of anything else to do Chris settled next to her and held her until the rain stopped.

These pills made her sluggish Claire thought as she struggled to work her way out of a doze, her head felt faint and each movement took effort as her limbs felt heavy, her eyes barely cracking open. Dim in the distance was the irritating buzz of the security door phone emanating from the corridor. Claire struggled to untangle herself from her splayed position underneath the bed covers before shuffling towards the front door. The door buzzed again impatiently as Claire made her way along, dodging pieces of errant furniture, grumbling as she did so. The door bell gave one last long buzz and Claire wrenched the door open as far as the lock and chain would allow, almost jumping with surprise when she saw who was on the other side.

"Leon", Claire breathed.

Leon Kennedy; the man Claire Redfield had survived the first circle of hell with. Leon looked handsome, dressed in a pair of Levi's, a white T and a leather bomber jacket, his young face still as earnest as the day Claire had met him back in Raccoon City. His eyes were different though Claire thought as she remained rooted to the floor, struck dumb by seeing the former police officer again.

Claire looked dazed to see him standing on her doorstep Leon thought awkwardly. The email from Chris has been a strange one, like he had been in a rush to write it and unsure what to say. In it Chris had explained that Claire was "under the weather", and that she could use some company while he was away in Europe. Claire didn't look like Claire, Leon thought, but he had to remind himself that he and Claire were still pretty much strangers to each other. What he thought he knew about Claire could all be an illusion fuelled by adrenaline.

Claire was dressed in a cami and a form fitting pair of hot-pants that was obviously Claire's nightwear. Claire's hair was tousled and for the first time Leon noticed was hanging down tousled around her face; he had been so used to seeing her hair up in a tight ponytail that is seemed bizarre to see Claire without it.

Claire cracked the door open wider now the initial shock of his unexpected visit wearing off as Leon smiled at her. With a stunned, "Oh my God", Claire tore the chain off the door and threw it open to embrace Leon in a hug. They stayed like that for a moment, simply enjoying a brief moment of contact but all too quickly Claire stiffened and pulled away, each of their arms falling limply to their sides. Claire recovered quickly, realising that she was barely dressed, standing in her apartment landing and hadn't even invited Leon in yet.

"Jesus... Leon come on in and make yourself at home. Sorry I am being such a ditz." Claire offered sheepishly as she shrank back over the threshold of her home, pulling the door back in an invitation for Leon to enter. Leon stepped in carefully after Claire, shutting the door as Claire rushed off to dress and get her things together. Claire's home was small and lacked any obvious signs that a nineteen year old girl lived here. Not that Leon knew that many teenage girls. The living room and kitchenette were Spartan almost in the lack of furniture and for what furnishings there was they were tatty and worn from years of use.

Knowing that the apartment was small and that Claire would hear him Leon shouted out while she dressed in the adjacent bedroom. "How long have you been back?" Behind him Claire peered around the bedroom door as she pulled her jeans on, "Two weeks ago." Leon heard the faint thump as Claire jumped to pull her jeans over her hips. "Sorry I should have emailed you to let you know. I've been a little out of it lately."

"So I hear," Leon called back as he explored the living room. "Chris sent me an email saying you've been sick lately."

Claire's voice hardened slightly as she entered the living room and crossed over quickly to the kitchenette. "I didn't realise you and Chris were best buds all of a sudden." Leon looked mystified for a second before answering as Claire brushed past him. "Hardly, we've exchanged two emails that's it. Once for Rockfort, once for now." Claire glared for a moment at him over the counter and a lesser man than Leon would have buckled under the intense look. It lasted barely a minute as Claire quickly relented realising that she was taking out the anger she felt for her brother on Leon who was simply caught in the crossfire. Exasperated Claire ran both hands over her face and fingers through her still slightly messy hair.

As Claire busied herself with making coffee Leon sank into the sofa and let him-self drift into thought as Claire was distracted in the next room. After Claire had left them Leon had brought Sherry to the FEMA relief station in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Stoneville. All Raccoon city survivors who passed medical tests were being forwarded on to there from the army camps that surrounded the remains of the doomed city. They had been told that there they would be officially registered as survivors and they would try to contact family members for somewhere else for refugees to go to. There was only two other people in the truck that Leon and Sherry had travelled along with each of them as haunted looking as Leon supposed both he and Sherry looked. One was a girl who looked no older than sixteen her bloodstained shredded top underneath a US army issue jacket, her tattered jeans that had once been blue now blackened with blood.

She looked up and noticed Leon staring at her; absently she looked down at herself before morosely staring right back at him. "He was my little brother." The girl hadn't needed to say anymore, the bloodstains spoke for themselves. The other passenger was a middle aged man who looked like a trucker with his big build and red checked shirt. He lay back with his eyes shut as if trying to block out everything around him. Sherry was falling asleep against Leon with his arm around her and everything was silent. Leon closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling the canvas of the army truck flutter against the back of his head. He stayed like that for a few minutes until another bend in the road and the flashes of light began interspersed with the shouts of men.

Sherry stirred nervously as Leon stepped up to look forward towards the driver and the windscreen. In the darkness the bursts of light were soldiers in gas masks; they were equipped with flamethrowers and were working to torch anything that was left, leaving everything in their path twisted and blackened. The soldier driver caught sight of Leon in his mirror and shouted out over the engine."They are clearing up the last of the plague! Anything that managed to escape the missile that decontaminated the city and is infected is getting burned".

Sure enough as they drove both Leon and the young private watched as two other soldiers dragged a still twitching corpse to a large ditch before emptying a Jerry can over what was obviously a mass grave. The soldiers stepped back and one set light to the virus riddled bodies hidden away from view the flames curling up into the cold night sky. As the truck pulled away a third soldier came in from the darkness stumbling towards the other two in his haste."Get on the radio to Sheridan, We fucking got the bitch!" Anything said after that was lost to night as they drove on the road fading back into darkness.

Leon had slumped back into his seat after that and Sherry moved closer remaining silent until they had got to the relief centre. Leon had seen disaster zones and relief efforts on TV news bulletins but he had never seen one like this. On TV there was usually thousands of people desperate for help here it was eerie on how few had managed to escape. Less than a hundred people wandered aimlessly between the standard issue z beds that filled the main floor. If Umbrella had wanted an effective weapon that didn't take prisoners they had managed it Leon thought bitterly. The low numbers of survivors from the city a testament to the horror of the T-virus. Between the survivors who littered the hall there were FEMA workers and Army personnel who wandered from person to person with a clipboard taking their details for the survivor register. It was looking to be a short list so far.

Leon suddenly felt very conspicuous with all the funny looks he was getting from the other survivors, one a woman in a red suit cast him a dirty look as he and Sherry settled down on a bench and waited. And then waited some more. Leon had begun to lose track of time when he could hear the klump of boots as someone walked towards them. Leon opened his eyes to see a pair of military issue boots in front of him and looking up he looked into the eyes of a man dressed in gear that looked like high level military. That familiar feeling of suspicion washed over him as he looked at the man, Leon thought he looked relatively youthful still though his eyes were tired looking with crow's feet lingering at the edges and a casual sneer playing at his lips as he looked over the rookie cop.

"Leon Kennedy? I am Major Jim Sheridan and I think you should come with me with as little fuss as possible."

Leon forced the memory away and refocused on Claire as he sat on the ratty couch that had seen better days. She was busy in the kitchenette making coffee and Leon took the time to scan the room. There were the usual pictures of, people who were looked like family and friends of Claire. There was one picture that caught his eye and Leon crossed the room to the small trestle table, carefully plucking it out from the cluttered photo frames. There was Claire obviously, her face full of happiness as she smiled in bright sunshine surrounded by trees as an older man pulled her in for a one armed bear hug. The man was obviously Chris Redfield; the resemblance between the two was striking, especially around the eyes. Claire was essentially the female form of her brother.

Claire bustled in from the kitchen with the two steaming mugs and settled one in for each of them on the scuffed coffee table before straightening up again. Leon held the photo frame up for her to see and Claire squinted in the poor light to make it out. "Chris?"

Claire scowled for a moment before answering. "Yep, that's him alright. My illustrious big brother." Leon snickered for a moment before carefully placing the photo back in its original place on the small table. "It's nice to put a face to the name after all this time." Claire raised a quizzical eye brow as she took a gulp of her coffee to avoid a sarcastic comment while on the subject of her brother. "Let's just say me and Chris are not on the best terms right now." Claire said with a non committal shrug as she nestled into the sofa, drawing her legs up beside her. Leon took the opportunity to scan the other pictures before crossing to the edge of the sofa. "What brought that on? I thought after all you had gone through to find him it would be all roses roundabout now?" Leon asked as he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. Claire quirked her head at Leon with a wry smile, "You would think so wouldn't you?"

Leon followed Claire's lead and sat opposite her on the adjacent sofa slipping off his jacket as he did so. For a little they had what almost seemed like a normal conversation and the questions they had been unable to ask in Raccoon could be asked now. Claire learned that Leon had played Little League as kid and Leon had learned that Claire had once played the guitar. For a little while they could pretend that nothing was wrong and that they had never even heard of Umbrella. It wasn't to last and all too soon the conversation moved onto Raccoon City and the exploits of Umbrella.

Leon spoke of another biohazard that had been covered up on a place called Sheena Island and Claire wasn't surprised that yet more people had died at the hands of Umbrella. In exchange Claire spoke about Rockfort and Antarctica taking care to redact some of the crazier bits that she would prefer to keep to had been talking for well over an hour when Leon decided to broach the subject of Claire's illness, hoping the ice had been broken.

"So what's been keeping you under the weather?" Leon asked echoing the words in Chris's email noticing Claire' initial nervousness at the question. Claire sighed, "Well the short story is I am apparently suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, the long story is a lot of stuff has fucked me right up lately and I blame Umbrella Inc." They both laughed at the black humour and it helped Claire to open up, her anxiety evaporating as she realised that out of all the people she knew Leon was the most likely to understand.

"I freak out at a lot of things now. I am terrified that I am infected or could get infected. And I know in my head that if I was I would know by now but I can't help it." Claire said wearily. "I jump at every unexpected noise and I can barely sleep without pills." Leon looked up sharply, "Pills?" At his question Claire reached down to the small drawer that was in the centre of her living room coffee table and pulled out the unmistakable orange prescription bottles and slapped them down in the centre of the table. "Prozac and Temazepam, everything a growing girl needs." Claire quipped.

"I wouldn't feel bad about it Claire. Most people would have gone crazy with some of the stuff you and I have seen. Leon offered sympathetically, his head lowered. "We all need some help coping from time to time."

Claire looked at Leon curiously and realised how serious he looked. "So how do you cope then?" Claire asked and watched him nonplussed as Leon reached his hand back behind him and a second later withdrew a 44 calibre Magnum placing it with a clunk next to the two prescriptions. "That's how I cope." Leon offered dryly tipping his head towards the weapon as Claire felt a weak smile tug at her lips. "I dunno, I feel like I am going crazy at times. I just can't stop thinking about it. And the doctor my brother sent doesn't make me feel any better."

"Doctor?" Leon asked as he leaned back on the sofa his arms outstretched on the back of it after taking a gulp of coffee. "Some guy my brother served with in the Air Force, he works with Veteran Affairs now. All the questions he asked it was like being interrogated by Umbrella again." Claire finished bitterly. "He's probably got my straitjacket on pre-order already."

Claire noticed that she was finding it a lot easier to talk to Leon than she had found with Davis or her brother, he didn't push for an answer instead waiting for Claire to open up of her own accord, his gaze never prying or judgemental. Claire traced the handle of her coffee cup with her thumb, silently debating how much to tell Leon as things moved on from topic to topic.

"I met a man when I was captured by Umbrella, a boy really... His name was Steve and he got infected. His whole family was murdered by Umbrella, his whole life just torn to shreds and he died in my arms telling me he loved me." Claire rubbed her eyes as the tears started to well up and she sniffed. "And now I wish he hadn't said that because now I feel haunted by him. I let him down."

Leon sat his mug firmly on the table as he took time to offer his answer."I doubt you let him down Claire. It's a lot to get over is all and it will take time. Maybe even years but you will get on." Claire smiled weakly as she tried to avoid falling apart all over again. "The voice of experience there Leon?" Leon swallowed heavily before lacing his fingers together as he spoke. "Only a little. Maybe you just need to find a purpose Claire. Now you are back and you know Chris is safe and well you have found yourself at a loose end with too much time on your hands."

Claire looked up bemused at Leon's psychoanalysis of her, crossing her arms and bringing her legs closer to her body as she rested on the sofa, a hand propping up her head on the arm rest. Leon looked Claire in the eye, "Maybe now you are just feeling a little lost. You could get a job or you could go back to college and get your degree if that's what you want. Maybe all you need to do is find a purpose again." Leon shrugged. "To be honest I am envious of the amount of choices you have Claire."

Claire straightened up from her half reclined state on the sofa at Leon's words, swinging her feet back firmly on the rug as she watched the former police officer carefully. "And what about your choices Mr Kennedy? What do you plan to do with your life now?"

Leon snorted sourly over the brim of his glass mug. "Let's just say I made the choice to not have choices and leave it at that shall we?" Claire bit her lip anxiously at his answer and wondered what had happened after she had left Leon and Sherry at the edge of Raccoon city.

"How is Sherry?"

Leon smiled at the mention of the little girl. "Sherry's well from what I know. She lives with her Uncle now near Chicago; she's in school and happy all things considered. Though she keeps asking for you." Claire swallowed the lump that was forming at the back of her throat and focused on the stitching that was embroidered on the edges of the armrest, her eyes prickling uncomfortably as she thought of Sherry. "When I get myself together I'll go visit Sherry." Claire sniffed, "She doesn't need to see me all screwed up like this."

Leon's face was impassive and for a moment it was simply silence as he waited for Claire to recover before answering. "Take the time you need to heal; Sherry will understand why when you see her." Leon reached over and gave Claire's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as her red eyes stood out starkly on her pale face.

It was later as Leon was getting ready to leave he had stood in the doorway, Claire watching him shrug on his jacket again. Straightening out his collar Leon had moved closer to give Claire a hug and dazedly accepted, this embrace lasting much longer than the first. As he held her Leon moved in to whisper in Claire's ear as she made to draw back. "Find something to do with your life Claire. Find a purpose and it's so much easier to get by each day. Trust me." And with that he left, leaving Claire to wistfully watch his retreating form as he walked down the apartment block corridor.

A week had passed since Leon's visit and his words had haunted Claire since he had left leaving Claire to linger on what he had meant by purpose. Was that the solution to how she felt right now? Was all that Claire needed to stop feeling this way was an aim in her life? There were anti-Umbrella organisations springing up like wildfire across the world. The death of thousands galvanising a limited few into action in order to fight back against Umbrella and others interested in similar research. The biggest group in the US was one that was comprised mostly of family members of those who had died in the recent biohazards. The organisation called itself Veritas and declared on its website that it was on a mission to expose the truth about each of the "incidents". Veritas was the most visible in the media; hardly a day went by without one of their spoke-people being on the tube denouncing both Umbrella and the Government.

Claire had mulled it over for about a day, anxiously reading and re-reading the print-outs she had as she thought about her "choices." As Claire read the page on Veritas and their recent actions the phone rang and Claire cautiously checked the caller ID. The number on the small plastic device hooked up to the phone was British and Claire quickly settled back to where she had been sitting on the sofa and started reading again. A British number only meant Chris was trying to call and as far as Claire was concerned the machine could get it.

Sure enough the machine kicked in with a beep and Claire could hear Chris's voice strangely muffled in the international call as he spoke. The background was noisy and sounded like a train or bus station with the echo of an announcer in the background.

"Claire? Are you there its Chris? I was just wondering how you were and how the appointment with Mick went? It would be nice to hear from you so... give me a call whenever you are ready. Love you sis."

Chris sounded disappointed as he hung up but Claire brushed it off. She still wasn't ready to forgive her brother and she doubted it would happen anytime soon. Let's see how he likes living in Limbo, Claire thought bitterly as she turned to the notes again and paused as the header for activists caught her eye, the writing was bold and designed to catch the eye and Claire read the few paragraphs with interest.

We need activists to continue the fight for justice. Veritas believes the US Government is lying to the American people about what happened in Raccoon City and about links between Umbrella and some of the highest figures in our government. Our friends, family and colleagues deserve justice and we will fight for them with whatever it takes despite the attempts to sabotage our campaign.

Veritas is growing across the United States and the only way we can keep up the momentum we have built over the past few months is with more activists and other volunteers. We need everyone to come together and help to help gather the proof we need to convict the murderers that killed over a hundred thousand people on the 1st of October 1998.

Claire dropped the wad of paper on the coffee table with a sigh, Leon had talked about purpose and having too much time on her hands. Veritas could be the answer to her problems. Claire wanted to fight and use her experiences to her advantage, not be held hostage by them like she was now. In the now slightly scattered pages of the printout Claire noticed another bold sentence that stuck out at the end of the section she had just read, it was details for the next meeting for people interested in becoming activists for Veritas. 6pm, Monday 1st February 1999 in Washington DC. Tomorrow, according to Claire's calendar that hung askew on the fridge, barely hanging to the scraped door except for a few magnets.

As Claire looked over her small home her eye caught sight of the two orange containers that were the pills Davis had left her on the kitchen counter. Claire stepped round the furniture and hesitantly picked up the larger bottle, her thumb running over the prescription label and her printed name. Was this what she wanted for herself? To remain continually numb and be dependent on a pill for comfort or to come out fighting and able to feel again?

Almost in automation Claire set the pill bottle back down on the counter and headed to the bedroom her nerve set. Claire had never been one to sit out a fight, her tomboy attitude getting her into a lot of trouble over the years as a child and it was no different now that she was an adult. If Claire became a Veritas activist it might give her the peace she was beginning to crave.

Once in her bedroom Claire tore the small room apart, dragging her old camping rucksack out from a cupboard and launching it over the room onto the bed. She packed a few changes of clothes and the usual travelling items as well as the less usual. Stomping from one corner to the next Claire hefted up her Umbrella scrapbook with all the news clippings she had gathered on Umbrella and Raccoon as well as her two textbooks on viruses. With barely a pause Claire moved over to her bedside cabinet and opened the drawer. To a casual observer all they would see was a drawer with some lip balm and a trashy horror novel but once Claire cast that aside underneath was a Browning 9mm and two packs of ammunition.

Instead of packing the gun away in the bag Claire reached for a tanker chest holder, (a relic of her father's), and slipped it on, strapping it so it the pistol would rest just above her hip. Another rummage in the cupboard revealed the other bit of clothing Claire needed in order to hide the fact she was carrying a weapon, her mother's old leather tailored trenchcoat and with a slight flourish Claire swept it on, thinking it was probably stylish feminine bit of cloth she had ever worn. Claire's mother had been slightly taller and bigger chested than Claire so once belted up the coat hid the gun perfectly. Fully dressed and ready for the cold with red beanie hat, scarf and gloves Claire was ready to go.

Snatching up her bag Claire headed to the door and paused as she passed the table that was next to her bedroom door. On it were mostly photos of her and Chris but the one that caught Claire's eye was the most recent one. It was the one Leon had taken an interest in of her and Chris at her High School graduation, Claire in her mortarboard and gown holding her diploma and Chris in his suit both of them grinning as the photographer had taken the photos. The photo was barely two years old but already their whole world had been turned on its head Claire thought sadly as she crouched down to be at eye level to look at the photos on the trestle table. As well as photos of her and Chris there were photos of him in his Air Force uniform and pictures from when Mom and Dad were still alive.

But there was the one photo that Claire always made sure to keep safe and that was a photo of all four of them: Mom, Dad, Chris, Claire and a Golden retriever they had once owned called Sparks. It was a nice reminder of everything before things had gone wrong for them. Back when the Redfield's were actually a family rather than two screwed up kids. Taking the picture out from the frame Claire slotted it safely into the front pocket of her leather jacket before slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning off the lights and leaving her apartment, not knowing when she would be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. Did anyone else all those years ago at the end of Code Veronica when Steve died and told Claire he loved her just think: "God damn kid what the hell did you do that for? That's pure fuck you up territory right there. I don't know about you but that would seriously affect me and I am sure it would have had one hell an effect on such an emotional person as Claire. Leon comes in here as well but he is not really a major player in this story.
> 
> This will really focus on the Claire and Chris relationship, and the Claire and Wesker relationship. I can't say I am sure about this chapter and I much prefer the later chapters from 4 onwards. Unfortunately these are necessary to set the scene if you like.


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